


DISCONTINUED WIP

by NukesAndNoodles



Category: bleh - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NukesAndNoodles/pseuds/NukesAndNoodles
Summary: "There will come a soldier.Who carries a mighty sword.He will tear your city down."- Soldier, Poet, King
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. "Let's Play With Swords."

"Go Hamza! Kick his butt!"   
  
1937\. British India.  
  
"Trust me, Hussein, I'm trying!"   
  
It was a hot day, children were playing in the dirt and these three boys were no different.  
  
"Give it up Hamza. You are no match for my strength!" Harish exclaimed.  
  
I suppose you could say they were different from each other, as brothers often are.

Harish was the oldest, he was clever and known for his witty remarks around the neighborhood. Despite having such an attitude, he had shown to be caring and considerate. In the way he had to take care of his brothers, he wanted to take care of smaller children who weren't as fortunate to be treated nicely. This often led to Harish being a leader to all the street kids. He was lucky, lucky enough to not have been trapped in the situation of many children where they didn't have any parents. Harish was lucky that he still had his mom and brothers. And, in his opinion "Lucky that he wasn't as stupid as Hamza."  
  
Hamza was the middle child and unlike Harish, was very quiet. He was known around the neighborhood as a silent trouble maker. Kids would go around saying you could make him do anything if you called him a coward. In a way it was true, he didn't want people to doubt his tough persona. He would get into fights, vandalize houses, you name it. He would also get the most beatings from his mom, he claims they're "battle scars" but most kids know a slipper mark when they see one. There was no doubt that Hamza was strong. Most called it stupidity but Hamza called it bravery. He thinks he would've been feared by everyone if it wasn't for his "paranoid" brother Hussein.  
  
Hussein, the youngest. Always being picked on. The "Blacksheep" of the family. He ended up with tough skin so I guess you could say it worked out. The street kids liked to pick on him because unlike his brothers, he didn't have much to show. He wasn't a natural-born leader like Harish or a strong fighter like Hamza. Don't worry though, because he had his heart to make up for it. Despite living in poverty himself, he wouldn't hesitate to give to others. He had been dubbed "Naive and stupid." Hussein couldn't see the problem, giving other people happiness is supposed to make you happy right? This didn't stop anyone from making fun of him, sadly. His cowardly nature made him an easy target. To protect himself, he became second in command of Harish's group of street kids.   
  
Today Hamza wanted to prove his strength to Harish so that if they were ever in danger, Hamza could be the leader for once. They had decided to use cardboard swords to make it as authentic as possible. They had done similar "training" before, it had seemed that neither of them was improving since Harish would just defeat both of them. 

  
Hamza had gotten a running start and launched towards Harish. "Go for the stomach!" Hussein yelled. Unfortunately, Hamza's sword had been blocked and was now putting in all his power to try and dominate his brother.  
  
"Why do you keep on fighting me? I'm older than you, and it's clear I have an advantage." Harish chuckled.  
"Don't test me, I've fought Akmal before. I'm sure I can take you down as well." "But did you win?" "Shut up!"   
  
After a while, Harish was starting to lose his strength. However just as he was about to lose, Harish pushed Hamza straight to the ground which knocked the sword out of his hand.  
  
"See! I told you!" Harish dusted himself off.  
  
Hussein towards Hamza to see if he was alright. "Hamza was about to win! You cheated!" "Did not!" "Did too!"   
  
Hamza stood up. "You always win! How am I supposed to get better if you don't give me a chance?" Harish sighed. "Cause It'll help you when we have to fight side by side. Don't look so sad." Harish dropped his sword. "Will you forgive me if I buy us some kulfi?" he asked. Hamza hesitated and opened his mouth to speak. "N-"

  
"YES! Buy us kulfi!!" Hussein exclaimed. "You heard him Hamza, let's go before it gets dark. We don't want the street vendors to close." Hamza gruffed. He couldn't stay mad at his brother forever. "Fine."  
  
There they were, three brothers ready to buy some kulfi and have fun. It didn't matter if Harish was a leader or Hamza was strong or if Hussein would ever learn to stand up for himself. They were brothers and it would take a mountain to tear them apart.  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Mom Says Not To Go Near Him.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There will come a soldier.  
Who carries a mighty sword.  
He will tear your city down."  
\- Soldier, Poet, King

_ **"My mom told me not to look at him in the eyes when he visits. I wouldn't want to anyway."** _

_ **"Abu said he's coming. If he stares at you, consider yourself dead."  
** _

_**"I heard if he notices you, you won't be with your family the next day."  
**  
_1945\. British India._**  
  
  
**_Various voices could be heard throughout the street, mainly children. Spreading rumours, getting more and more ridiculous as they got passed on. Who was this new person arriving that was striking fear into these citizen's hearts? Well, the person responsible for their problems since the beginning. They rarely got to see him and for good reason too. Whenever he would arrive _if he_ arrived instead of one of his advisors, he'd do something unpredictable. No one wanted to shake hands with a colonizer. Unfortunately, certain deals had to be made. And, even worse. Some dealmakers happened to be related to our main focus.   
  
It was inevitable. Our beloved hero's happened to hear about these rumours. First, it was Harish who came home wondering why the ruler was visiting. Hamza happened to stumble on his brainstorming and he asked for Harish to spill.   
  
"I'm telling you Hamza, why would the personification of Great Britain want to visit our dirty little town? Isn't that a bit suspicious?"  
  
"Uh, did you forget? Mom lives here. He came to talk to her. Personification to Personification."

"But mom's represents a civilization. What could he want from her? I mean-" Harish stopped midway and started to think.  
  
"Doesn't matter Bhai." Hamza walked over and put an arm around his shoulder. "Just don't look him in the eye and we're all good."  
  
"You actually believe all those rumours? That he can sense fear and kill you in one shot? Look out! It's the guy who robbed us and stole all our stuff!! He'll steal your soul now too!! Arghhh!!"   
  
"Hey. Hussein believes them." Hamza looked to the side getting ready to yell. "HUSSEIN! GET OVER HERE OR-"  
  
The dashing footsteps could be heard very clearly as the little boy ran across the floor.  
  
"I'M HERE!!" Hussein said panting. "Please don't make me eat all your leftovers again! Just because I'm a rotten egg doesn't mean I have to eat one!"  
  
Harish sighed. "Did you both come here just to ruin my train of thought?"   
  
"Yes." the younger two replied in unison.

"Get out."  
  
After a while of brainstorming and thinking, Harish still had nothing. Not a single guess. Why? Why is_ he_ here? It was easy to understand why everyone was afraid but hard to get why _he wanted a deal._ Was Harish unaware of something? He couldn't be. His mom told him everything. He was her best friend. If she was hiding something it must be serious. Nah, Harish was sure she told him everything there was to know.

Meanwhile, Hamza was debating with Hussien what to name their pet rocks. They placed all the rocks on the table in the living room and got to work. Rahul or Rajveer? Anum or Aliyah? The list went on.   
  
"Maybe we should name this rock Hussien because he's so stupid looking!" "Quit it Hamza!" Just passing time until mom came home and told them what the deal was. Being the sons of a personification wasn't that much different. Except your mom is stressed all the time and is barely home, so what else are you supposed to do as children besides fighting each other and playing on the street? For what seemed like hours of bickering, came a sound.  
  
There was a knocking on the door.  
  
"Mom?" Hamza went to go open the door. She had come home. Except she looked significantly more tired and frail.   
"Mom! Are you okay?" Hussien walked over, trying to offer some support by holding her up.  
  
"I'm doing well, don't worry. Just a rough day with preparations that's all."   
  
Harish came out of his room and saw the situation. It took a while to get everyone to just sit down and figure out what was going to happen today. the sound of a kettle boiling could be heard and all three brothers sat, wondering what their mother had been so busy with. They had the previous knowledge of how the trade worked and managing a society was tough no doubt. It was quite a sight to see, brows furrowed, sweaty palms and shaky breaths. Whether they wanted to admit or not. All three had no idea what the arrival meant. Their only source of answers was someone who seemed not very reliable in her current state. The tea began to overflow and so did their minds with questions. _Mom's grown so old, she's basically lost her place as IVC. Why would he make a deal now? _Harish thought. The IVC had been gone since forever, but they still kept the personification around because they needed well, something to represent the state. She had practically lost her identity at this point, just simply going by "Indus" which was a price to pay as all representatives did so.   
  
Indus sat down, tea in her hand and a stern look on her face.  
  
"I'm sure you've been hearing the town. Great Britain is coming to visit. One reason is that the political climate has changed. So much so that they fear a civil war with the new idea of a separate state. This may or may not result in a sort of Siamese twin effect of two nations." She took a sip of her tea before continuing. "I hope you see where I'm going with this, a new nation means a new personification, a new personification means-"  
  
"They're looking for someone." Harish filled in.   
  


"Precisely. Now, I'm going to say what you three have to do when you go to see him tomorrow."  
"Wait we're going to the crowd?! Do you know how many riots there will be?" Hamza exclaimed  
  
"I know. You will blend right in so consider yourself safe, it isn't the people I'm afraid of. When you go there, analyze and bring back information. That is all you need to do. Don't make eye contact because he **will** notice you, and that is the last thing I'd like. Understand?"  
  
They all nodded.   
"Will he turn us into stone?" Hussien asked only to be greeted with a facepalm from Hamza.  
"No you moron, he's gonna know who our mom is and find out we're old enough to work."  
"Oh."  
  
The planning was done. It seemed the three brothers had a tedious day ahead of them.  
  



	3. Where Did You Go? Part 1.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'd like to inform you that fear is not a word in my vocabulary."  
"Perhaps, but it's in your eyes."

1946\. British India.  
  
There it was. Another one of the riots that had now become the norm. That didn't make it less horrifying. The people fighting and children screaming in fear, and on top of it all, looking from above was _him._ It was quite a sight to see, an overwhelming one too. After witnessing it themselves, all three brothers gave each other a look. More or less to say "What the hell is this?"  
  
"Welp, I'm going home. Khuda-hafiz guys." Hamza bluntly stated and turned around. Only for Harish to grab him by the shirt.  
"You aren't going anywhere, we have a job to do." The oldest said sternly.  
"How are we even going to get through this crowd?! Look! It's a mess!"  
"Remember what mom said, we'll blend in."

Hamza huffed and turned back around. "Yeah, you guys will. My attire gives it away." He said, it's not like he was wearing anything different from his brothers but people had started to differentiate themselves by hats as silly as that sounds. Hamza wearing a topi made it very obvious that he had converted to Islam. The first time he told his family no one really questioned it, except for Harish of course. Harish had chosen to stay Hindu like Indus because why would he go astray from his mother? Hussien, being only 11 at the time was still undecided but it had seemed his brothers had made up their minds. Eventually, they had learned to move past their differences. Something almost no one did, being open-minded was a rare gift at the time. It had become more of a friendly rivalry than anything, like a wicked inside joke. Whenever Harish would talk about something of his interest, Hamza would talk about how the opposite of that thing was better deliberately. Of course, they never took each other seriously, why would they?   
  
"Aw come on, no one's going to fight a 15-year-old boy." Harish scoffed.  
  
They began to walk closer to the crowd, trying to avoid the fights taking place and trying not to get pushed onto the ground. They assumed Great Britain was in the middle because that's where all the noise was coming from but that wasn't the case. No sight of him. They turned their heads everywhere, left to right but still nothing. _He has to be here. _While doing all of this, Harish, Hamza and Hussien held hands. They couldn't lose each other in the middle of the riot, especially one as violent of this. None of them said a word to each other, it was almost sub-consciously. Fear had bonded them, fear of losing each other, fear of being alone, but most importantly fear of bumping into Britain without any backup. 

After walking for a while Harish stopped. He took another long glance trying to find something, _anything_. A trace of this being's existence. Maybe there wasn't even a point to this, he wondered. Maybe he should just analyze what's in front of him. Yeah...That seems plausible.  
  
Hussien had his fists clenched, he didn't like violence. He hated how there was so much violence based on religion. If his brothers could get along, why couldn't these much older people? He was simply just trying to process the situation as much as he could. Which proved to be a stressful task with so much going on at the same time.   
  
What was Hamza doing? That poor boy was hardly caring, too busy focusing on the riot itself. He was cheering at the fights, hoping whichever guy he "chose" would win. He was just really getting into it, acting like he wasn't even scared or the tad bit concerned. He even considered getting into a fight himself. _Who knows? Sounds fun. _He noticed when Harish came to a stop. He looked upwards.  
  
**There he was.** **Great Britain looking from above.**  
  


They had made eye contact, Britain's grey emotionless eyes striking the look of fear into Hamza's hazel ones. The rulers furrowed brows released tension and he blinked as if he had confirmed something. Hamza blinked and the next thing he knew, he was gone.

The amount of fear that coursed through Hamza's body was unbearable. He started shaking and let go of Harish's hand.  
  
"We need to leave." He said quickly with his voice quivering.  
"What? Why?" Harish questioned, he had been lost in thought.  
"I saw him! I saw Britain, we've got the info we need so let's go!"   
"He didn't notice you, did he?"  
  
Hamza fell silent if he answered the truth he'd never hear the end of it despite not knowing the consequences, but it seemed he didn't need to.   
  
"I'm leaving. I don't feel safe." Hamza replied.  
"You're going home?" Hussien asked.  
  
But, Hamza didn't answer. He turned around and began to walk away. Harish sighed. He was sure Hamza would just go back to the neighbourhood.   
  
"It's okay Hussien, let him go. We'll be heading home soon too."   
  
If everything works out, then they'd meet up at home. It has to work out.  
  


Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a TWO part chapter, stay tuned!


	4. Where Did You Go? Part 2.

Hamza walked away from it all, being shoved through the crowds and pushed around. He had to get out of there.

“Watch where you’re going, boy!” An older man said angrily

“Sorry, sir!” Hamza replied quickly.

Hamza kept on walking away, not looking back. They’ll be fine. He thought. His mind was a mess of emotions. He had one job. Just one job, “Don’t look him in the eye.” and he couldn’t even do that right. The boy’s mind was all over the place, thinking, pondering, wondering. He didn’t even know if he was going to be safe anymore. Eventually, after walking for what seemed like hours he stopped at a dusty vacant area. It was far from the village and would probably take a while to get back. At least Hamza knew that no one would be here, so he sat down on a nearby rock. The faint wind blew on his face and the sky began to grow darker. Now all that was left was the voices screaming in his head. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. Even the strongest boys could be afraid sometimes. He was glad there was no one around to see him in such a cowardly state even though it was perfectly reasonable to be so. It was for what seemed like hours that Hamza heard somebody calling out to him. He turned around.

“Hamza?”

It was Hussein.

“Hamza! Thank goodness you’re here!” Hussein looked like he was having trouble breathing. It must’ve been from the running. Hamza walked closer to his younger brother.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home?” He asked

“That’s what  _ I'm _ supposed to be asking  _ you _ ! Ami’s gotten sick... Harish sent me to get you, he’s trying to take care of her but it’s not-” Husseins voice began to break, and his eyes became tearful. Nevertheless, he continued.

“She needs all of us right now.”

Hamza couldn’t believe it, he had to see for himself. He grabbed Hussein's hand and ran all the way home until he reached their neighbourhood. Just when he thought things couldn’t be more frightening. When he finally reached home, he slammed the door open so hard the hinges almost busted.

The first thing he saw was Harish, eyes red and swollen from crying and brows furrowed.

“Where on this earth were you?!” Harish yelled, being the first to speak.

“I’m sorry okay? Where’s mom? What’s going on?” Hamza asked much more calmly.

Harish pointed to the room, in a way that basically said “See for yourself, asshole.”

Hamza walked in, greeted with a sight that made everything make sense. Husseins voice breaking when talking, Harish’s emotional outburst and now he got to see why.

Indus laid there on her bed, shaking. She looked weak, weaker than before. Of course, she was stressed but- now she just looked like a tired woman of skin and bones. She must've been ** starving ** . She began coughing profusely. It looked painful. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t even notice Hamza until he was closer to her.

“A-Ami? It’s me, Hamza. I came to see you.” Hamza’s heart was aching. He lowered his voice and spoke as softly as he could. When Indus finally stopped coughing, she opened her eyes.

“Hamza? Sit down. How was the riot?” She said, her voice was so weak she could barely make a sound.

“I’m so sorry Ami. I didn’t listen. I didn’t listen to you. I looked him in the eye! I didn’t listen and now I don’t know what’s going to happen! I-” Hamza began to cry, sitting next to his ill mother. The guilt hit him hard and sunk in deep. His breaths became short. This whole time she was protecting them with no regard for herself. He had been so selfish for not noticing sooner.

“Shhhh. It’s okay my baby. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have sent you out there. It was too risky. I should be the one apologizing... I’m sorry Hamza, you listened to me just fine.” Indus said before lifting her hand to wipe off the tears on his cheeks. She gave him a weak smile.

“Can you promise me something Hamza?”

“Anything.”

“Please. Promise me you will always stay strong, and you will use that strength for good.”

“That sounds easy enough. Ok ami, I promise.”

Hamza smiled back at her, tear-stained but still hope in his eyes. He held her hand the whole time, grip tight and too afraid to let go.

Indus spoke again, “I’m feeling tired, I’d like to hear you sing me that lullaby. Do you remember?”

Hamza nodded.

According to his family and anyone who happened to hear, his singing gave you a feeling of comfort. As if someone had wrapped a blanket around you and told you that you were going to be okay. It was therapeutic in a sense. Hamza never understood why it made others feel that way, he would just sing. He assumed it was because he just had a melodic voice but to everyone else it was because whenever he would sing, there was emotion. Something to hold onto and something to feel proud of.

_ When you look up at the stars, _

_ please don’t forget me in your heart. _

_ I will always be with you my dear, _

_ do not fear. _

** _ Your mother will always be here. _ **

Indus sang the last part with him.

Hamza pulled her in for a tight hug.

“I love you so much, mama."

** … **

“M-Mom?”

There was no answer.

“Ami!”

Still, nothing.

"No, no no! Ami please wake up! Wake up, Ami! You can't go, you can't-" Hamza called his brothers. They came running in to see what had become of their mother.

All three, sitting down. None of them could process anything. Hussein couldn't stop sobbing which made it hard for the older 2 to keep it together. Harish was angry because if he would've known beforehand he could've done something. Hamza still kept his grip on his moms hand, not wanting to have to let go.

"What's the last thing she said to you?" Harish asked.

"S-She asked me to sing."

Harish let out a small chuckle, only to start laughing. He laughed and laughed with heavy tears streaming down his face. It was so odd that even Hussein stopped for a moment. They just stared at Harish laughing. 

"What's so damn funny!" Hamza yelled.

"No more Haldi Milk." Harish said, still crying. 

Hamza gave the saddest smile. Hussein wrapped his arms around Harish and Hamza.

All three boys, weeping. But, they found comfort in each other even for a second.

Because at least now, they truly had nothing left to lose but each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Where did you go?" was not the question asked by Harish to Hamza.  
But, the question asked by Hamza to his mom. 
> 
> haha bitch you didn't see that coming did ya-


	5. A New Friend.

**August 10th, 1947. British India.**

It had been months since Indus had passed, and it seemed like nothing was getting any better. Harish had to start working now, meaning that there were now 2 fewer people in the house. Speaking of house, Hamza had to get groceries and cook while Hussein had to clean. It's as if Indus had been babying them this whole time, and only now did they learn how to take care of themselves. 

"We're out of potatoes! I'm going out to get some!" Hamza yelled out before leaving the house. "Get kulfi too!" Hussein replied back.

As Hamza walked into the streets and to the bazaar, he noticed a cart full of assorted goods. Walking closer, he noticed a boy was selling them, the boy looked not too much younger than Hamza and had long dark hair. He was taller and slimmer, his skin was pale and he definitely looked foreign. He looked nothing like the rest of the retailers. This spiked Hamza's curiosity and he had to see what brought this traveler to his tiny town, so he walked over.

"Oh hello! Would you like to purchase something?" The tall boy said.

"Uh no, not yet. I actually just wanted to talk to you. You're not from here, are you?" Hamza asked  
  


"No, I'm not. I came here with my father. He made me in charge of this cart. He said he was looking for someone important. We're from China, we heard about your people's situation. It's a shame." 

Hamza grew quiet, "It is."

"..."

"..."

"My name's Sheng by the way. Sheng-Ming." 

"That's a name I haven't heard before. My name's Hamza."

"Do you not have a last name?" Sheng questioned.

"Well, I mean- I don't usually tell people because then when they meet my brothers they get confused." 

"Why would they get confused?"

"We all have different last names because of our mom, she wasn't too keen on telling us who our father was." 

"Wow, and your mom is?"

"My mom _ was _ the IVC representative."

Sheng brows went up and he grinned. "That's it! That's who we're looking for!" He hugged Hamza. "I can't believe I'm meeting her son! It's an honour!"

"Woah, what happened to our casual conversation? Ten seconds ago I was almost ready to buy something." Hamza joked. He wasn't really in the mood to tell this kid that his mother died in his arms. He didn't want to ruin Sheng's cute smile of hope. 

"You don't need to pay! Take anything you want!" Sheng couldn't be any more cheerful.

"Listen, I am short on money so I thank you but I can't just take things. So in exchange, I'll show you around the town. Deal?

"Deal!" 

Sheng put the cart back in his tent and began to follow Hamza around like a little puppy. It was clear that he was getting attached. Hamza went around and bought all the herbs and spices, he bought the aloo, pyaz, mainly vegetables because they were the cheapest. It’s not like Harish would be complaining, he was vegetarian so all the meals were in his favour. Hamza checked to see if he was missing anything. _ Haldi...We can live without it. _Sheng couldn’t help but be dazzled at all the new sights and sounds around him. It wasn’t much to Hamza, he saw these things every day, the baker yelling at her children and the street musicians that never made a dime. But, it seemed all so new to Sheng. Hamza couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Sheng, can I ask you something?” Hamza said, picking up the last of his grocery bags.  
  
“Sure. Unless if it has anything to do with my father’s secret noodle recipe, then I must remain silent.” Sheng responded playfully.  
  
“What? No, I-” Hamza chuckled. “I wanted to ask what China is like, my mom got to go everywhere but was always too tired to tell us about her trips. I’ve never been able to leave this mess that I call my home country. But, I have always wondered what it’d be like to be a traveler.”  
  
The two boys kept on walking, it was the afternoon now and Hamzas arms were feeling more tired after carrying a lot of bags so Sheng offered to hold a couple of them.  
  
“China’s alright, I’m pretty sure our government is going to collapse soon. Our representative isn’t the best right now which means there’s only a matter of time before they replace them.” Sheng sighed. “I assume you meant what it’s like living there.” 

Hamza nodded and Sheng continued, “I’d say it’s better than your condition, um, no offense of course. At home, it’s just my parents and I. Baba comes home after a long week of working and I take my reading classes. Mama stays at home, cleans and cooks. She usually makes rice because it’s affordable. The days kind of just repeat, you shouldn’t be feeling unsatisfied when you’ve got everything you need.”  
  
“Wow, that sounds wonderful,” Hamza said looking down.  
“I’ve been talking a lot. How’s _ your _ life, great son of Indus?” Sheng pointed to Hamza.  
What Hamza wanted to say was **It sucks because my moms dead and I feel lost without her.** But, what came out was,

“As you said, things are pretty rough around here. My life is no exception. I’ve got two brothers at home, one that I bicker with 24/7 and one that annoys the hell out of me. Unlike your life, I do the cooking and I’d like to read if the books we had weren’t in Hindi. I’ve gotten older which means I can’t play as much as I used to, but I’ve dedicated that time to start writing poetry.” The boy rambled on. 

“Huh, I thought being the child of a personification would be much different,” Sheng said, sounding a little disappointed.

“It wasn’t always like that,” Hamza took in a deep breath. “Everything was fine until…” He hadn’t talked about it until now. He didn’t have the chance to vent. His brothers stayed quiet just like him. Hamza hadn’t noticed he had been bottling it all up until now. He stopped walking after noticing they had reached the neighborhood. He grabbed his bags from Sheng and looked him in the eye. 

“Sheng, I hate to tell you this, but Indus died a year ago.” He said calmly, but he couldn’t hide the pained expression on his face.

“Oh my god! Oh, I’ve been talking so much and I didn’t even think- I’m so so sorry!” Sheng immediately looked upset with himself, of course, how was he supposed to know? That didn’t stop him from feeling so badly about how ignorant he was being.  
  
“It’s okay, with all the violence going on, everyone’s too busy to have noticed.” Hamza began walking again. “Hey we’re pretty close to my house, do you want to come in for tea or something? I make really good rotis, even ones with sugar in them!” 

Sheng looked surprised. “But, sugar is so expensive!”  
“I know, that’s why I only make them when we have guests.” Hamza smiled  
“How often do you have guests?”  
“Never!”

That afternoon, Hamza had made a friend. Finally, someone to talk to. After serving tea and sweet roti, Hamza trusted Sheng enough to info-dump all the guilt that had been piling up.

  
  


“This is really good!” Sheng exclaimed with his mouth full of bread.  
  
“I’m glad you think so.”

“Hamza?” 

“Yes?”

“You’re a strong person, dealing with all of this,” Sheng stated, his tone growing more serious.

“I get told that a lot.” Hamza sounded unamused.

“Has anyone told you that you have a nice smile?”

This immediately got Hamza flustered. He couldn’t help but cover his face.  
  
“No, no one says that.”

“I’ll be the first to say it then. You should smile more, cause it’s a cute smile.”

**“Uh, more tea?”**


	6. Picnic For Three, Please.

** _August 11th, 1947. British India._ **

Harish let out a heavy sigh. It was finally his break, the end of the week, and he was finally home. As he entered the house, he dropped his bags and took off his apron. The scrawny 18-year-old had been shining shoes for so long that his arms ached, it felt like heaven to just stop overexerting himself and rest on the couch.  _ Peace at last.  _ He thought to himself as he closed his eyes.

“Hey, Harish...Since you’re home, do you think you could take us outside today?” A small voice said. Hussien poked Harish waiting for a response.

_ You gotta be kidding me. _

“I just came home, give me an hour and I’ll take you and Hamza to the shepherds or something.”

“I don’t want to go play with the smelly sheep. You promised we would go somewhere special when you got off work.” 

Harish grunted. He didn’t want to go anywhere but who could blame Hussien. Even Hamza got to go outside, but poor little Hussien was trapped in the house, nothing to do, nowhere to go. He had gotten the short end of the stick. It was unfair, but so was forcing three boys who were barely past the age of maturity to take care of themselves with no idea of how scary the outside world could be.

Hamza walked in to see the small conversation that was happening.

“Ah, Harish! I see that you’re back.”

“Hey, Kutta.”

“Wow. I know work is rough for you but no need to take it out on me. Speaking of which, are you going to take us out or are we supposed to sit here in solitary confinement?”

“FINE, I GET IT. I PROMISED.”   
“Yay!” The younger two said in unison. 

They had decided to go on a picnic at the small park, just like they used to a year ago before all these responsibilities had been put upon them. Hamza had packed the basket and next thing they knew, they were on their way. The boys were marching behind each other all taking turns singing songs for this special occasion. Harish sang an old folk song about nature, when it came to Hamzas turn he sang more softly than he normally did, but still sang a song about being forgetful and Hussien rocked out on a song about being an ant in a world full of giants. Ultimately, entertaining themselves until finding a nice spot under a tree. The youngest laid out a sheet and Hamza put the basket down. 

“The breeze is calming today,” Harish said as he sat down. “It’s almost as if it’s not even real, I mean, look at this view. I hate to say this, but it was a good idea going outside.” He admitted with defeat. 

“Haha! Harish is a pride pig!” Hussien claimed out loud in a sing-songy voice.

“Hmph, and the oldest says he knows best,” Hamza added on. 

“Oh shut up, you two.”

As they continued talking, they found themselves telling stories, laughing at jokes and sharing the experiences they had without each other. Harish was telling the story about the old coon who refused to pay him and his impersonation was so perfect that it ended with everyone wheezing so hard it sounded like a collective asthma attack. Hussien was laughing about the time when he was mopping, he accidentally poured juice into the water instead of soap which had made the whole floor so sticky just like glue.

“What’s been going on in your life Hamza?” They both asked.

“Well um, I met someone yesterday when I went grocery shopping.”

“Oooooh! Hamza’s got a girlfriend!” Harish teased, leaning in closer.

“God no! First off, it was a guy. Second of all, he was a merchant who basically just wanted to meet mom.”

“Psh. Too bad she’s dead.” Harish said which had seemed to make Hussien upset as the smile that was once on his chubby face had now faded away. 

It made him upset to know that his two older brothers could just casually talk about it as if Indus had meant nothing to them. But that wasn’t the only reason he looked unhappy.

“U-Uhm, guys...Guys! There’s, um, there’s i- uh.” Hussien said with fear in his voice, pointing behind them.

“What are you blubbering about?” Hamza asked before turning around.

Two tall guards stood behind them, and all three knew what they were in for when they saw that  **damn flag.**

“RUN!” Harish yelled.

Unfortunately, that was the last thing Hamza heard before blacking out.

...


	7. Maybe I'll See You Again As Somebody Else.

The walls were caved in and the room was pitch black making it extremely difficult to see a thing. The air was damp and cold and faintly smelled like blood. Someone had been in this room before, somebody had done something and judging by the looks of it, something gruesome.

“Hamza! Are you dead?” asked a distant voice.

Hamza jolted upwards out of shock. It took him a second to figure out what was going on around him and he was hit with a strong sense of fear. How long had he been knocked out? A couple of hours? Maybe even a day? It was hard to remember....they were at the picnic, Hussien had pointed out the guards...None of it was making sense. Why did they put him here? What did they want? What did _he _want? Was ruining their childhood not enough? Everything since then had become so blurry. Hamza tried to keep his focus on his thoughts because that was the only thing he could do in this situation.

“Where am I? Why is it so dark? What happened??? I can’t see anything!” Questions flooded Hamza's mind after getting a grip on the reality around him. 

“Calm down, because I don’t have any answers-” the voice jokingly replied.

Hamza took a deep breath, before realizing that he had heard this mysterious sound before- It was a voice he hadn't heard in about 5 years or so. No way, It can't be. How on earth did they both end up in the same grimy place?

“Wait a minute- How do you know my name? And- and you sound familiar.” Hamza questioned and wondered if his ears were deceiving him.

“Forgot about me, that easily? Wow, pesaramoo...” 

After hearing that small bit in Farsi, Hamza knew that he was right about who he thought the voice belonged to.

“Dalir! It’s you! I haven’t seen you in years! How old are you now?” Hamza was ecstatic, a sudden change in mood, he finally got to see his cousin after so long. Even if it wasn’t the best time for a reunion and **definitely** not the best place, he couldn’t help but be thrilled. Not only thrilled at the fact that he wasn't alone but thrilled that it was with someone he trusted.

“I have no idea, still older than you though haha.” Dalirs voice was raspy and dry, he sounded thirsty. It was odd really, Hamza couldn't see him but Dalir didn't sound like he was in the best condition. The small sounds of clinks could be heard whenever Dalir spoke and it was hard to decipher why. 

“Have you been in here this whole time? Is that why you’ve been missing-” Hamza was cut off.

“Hey, stop it with the questions. I get that you’re freaking out about being kidnapped but I’ve been in here long enough to know that you should just keep quiet ok?”

Hamza sighed and nodded, even though Dalir couldn’t see him.

Suddenly, a bright light was turned on and Hamza was in shock at what had happened to his dear relative. 

Dalirs face had been morphed into what _they _wanted it to be and his pale skin had now turned into shades of black, red and green. He was covered in cuts and bruises all over and had his large eyebags had shown that he hadn’t gotten any proper sleep. His hand and feet were in chains which explained the clinking noises and it appeared he had given up on trying to get them off. Hamza was paralyzed with shock and let out a gasp.

“Dalir…who did this to you?” Hamza tried to walk closer but was met with the sudden realization that his hand and feet were also in chains, which terrified him even more. He tried his best to keep a straight face in hopes that he wouldn’t break down and prevent him from getting answers. 

“Hamza..." The Persian let out a sad chuckle. Pain in his topaz eyes as he stared into Hamzas hazel ones. It was embarrassing, the first time you see your cousin in years and they've turned into what could only be described in the most grotesque choice of words. "I’m not Dalir anymore. Can’t you see? They’ve ruined me and they are going to ruin you too. I’m the personification of Afghanistan now, they changed the system. They aren’t going to let us be human, like Indus. They aren’t going to let us die. We have no choice. I will forget everything, and one day, hopefully, I’ll forget this. I might even forget you too. I’m sorry Hamza.”

_ No. No, no, no, no. Stop saying that. Stop saying those words. I don’t believe you, I CAN’T believe you- _

“That’s it? You aren’t even going to try?!” 

“I’m sick of trying, we can’t win.”

Hamza started yelling out for help. He yelled out for his brothers, for the merchant kid he met at the bazaar, heck, even for his dead mother. Tears streamed down his face. Full of panic and anxiety. 

“Stop it, Hamza! You’ll get them upset!”

“I don’t care about _ them! _I want to go home!”

“I’ve been stuck here for years, trust me. You **don't** want to take any risks here, you'll get hurt. Maybe even killed although I doubt it, isn't it better just to do what they say and live another day? You have to accept that home is gone and all we can do now is try our best to not upset them.”

Sharp footsteps could be heard across the room, down the hallway. As Hamza raised his head up to finally pay attention to the walls around him he could see that this wasn’t just some sort of cave. 

This was a lab. With needles and blood samples, plastic containers that had who knows what inside them.

Soon, other voices began to fill the room.

Voices with British accents. 

Afghanistan kept his voice low. “Hamza, those are the scientists or as I like to call them, torturers-" He pointed. "I hate to tell you this but you’re due in two days.”

“What? Due in two days? I don’t understand.” The younger one looked concerned and confused.

“Your process will be rushed.”

“Dalir, you aren’t making any sense-” 

“Just know that whatever I do in the future, I don’t mean it. It isn’t my fault. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“Dalir! Bekwas band karo!” Hamzas voiced cracked. “Why would you ever hurt me? You always took care of me.”

“Things are different now. I wish you luck.” Afghanistan gave the weakest smile, it was hard but it was the best he could do.

Hamza swooped in for a hug but before he could wrap his arms around his beloved cousin, he was snatched by one of the lab workers and his final goodbye to the person he knew as Dalir was a sad wave and a mouthed “Khuda hafiz”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Persaramoo- Cousin (Persian)  
Bekwas Band Karo- Stop talking garbage (Urdu)


End file.
